When Arthur got to be seven, he decided that spiders weren’t so terrible after all.
Soon after he startled a parson spider in the basement. It scrambled on the shag rug and into the crack behind a bookshelf. It terrified him. Instinctually, he wanted to rock that bookshelf back against the wall until the spider got smashed.
But he stopped himself. It was a decision. He’d let that spider live, even if he’d have trouble sleeping at night. It was an interesting spider. It was cool. Anyway, if he really wanted to be a naturalist, he couldn’t kill anything, right?